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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020780">if i could never give you peace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alewifes/pseuds/alewifes'>alewifes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Bisexual Hermione Granger, Black Hermione Granger, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Plus-Size Pansy Parkinson, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, What-If, lots of headcanons i give jkr no credit, potential smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:01:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alewifes/pseuds/alewifes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy thought her life was over when she stayed for the Battle of Hogwarts and faced her Death Eater family in their eyes. She didn't ever picture a world where she went against their word. But now, six years later, she's living in the aftermath — a trust fund, a job as a journalist, and a bout of trauma that seems to last a lifetime. So when she's assigned to the campaign trail of the youngest witch running for Minster for Magic, Pansy severely underestimates the ghosts of her past that it will reawaken, whether she likes it or not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>if i could never give you peace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi this is the longest part in a folklore/evermore series im doing. this will probably be on the long side of a shortfic. for graphics and a full playlist, this fic is published on my wattpad, folkmore :) tw for blood, war and violence.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  
  <b>“He’s right there, someone grab him!” </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Goyle that shouts it out. Pansy stands stagnant next to him, her eyes falling upon fear-stricken Harry Potter and back to the person next to her, grimacing. Professor McGonagall is sneering at them. Oh, how she wishes she were in a different position. Anywhere but here, actually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the kids of Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff surround Harry, Pansy’s feet ache to step forward and show them all that not all Slytherins are evil, too. That even if she spent the prior years with Draco Malfoy’s head in her lap, even if she faked the blood supremacy and did nothing to stop her horrible friends, Pansy Parkinson was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good fucking person. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She keeps her feet still for now, except for when she slides an inch away from Goyle. He reeks of sweat and body odor, and his hair is greasy, and his pit stains have spread to both sides of his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And was Pansy scared? Sure, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> nobody likes hearing a voice inside of their head that isn’t their own. It was extremely and utterly terrifying. The Dark Lord scared her far more than she would like to admit, but seeing Harry standing there, she knows that even with him dead, He won’t stop. Things will go worse, more horrible than those months at Hogwarts spent under Headmaster Snape. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> get worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy hears Daphne gasp from behind her. With McGnnagall’s eyes on them now, their entire house cowers together slightly, an exiled sea of green in the middle of a blue sunken room. Astoria has her eyes clenched shut. Draco is chewing on his cheek. They’re scared too, she knows. Even if they’re not supposed to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor Filch runs in. Pansy focuses on the ground then, counting the pieces of crumbled brick below their feet, the shattered glass that’s crushed under the toes of her shoes. It’s stained red and shines back at her, sending a reflection ricocheting up, and it’s only slightly unnerving. She’s standing there, staring back at herself, hair messy and dirt across her face, her skirts end torn to threads, the green tie crooked on her neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take Slytherin house to the dungeon,” she hears the Professor say. There’s a hiccup in her throat, and Pansy’s first reaction is to reach for the wand hiding in the waistband of her skirt. It’s pressed against her, poking the upper part of her thigh, but the green mass sea starts to move and before she can clutch it and move away, she’s dragged into the tide while all of the other children clap for their exilement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s one thing to be painted as a villain for six long years. Especially when people don’t even try to understand how harsh it is to defy your parents centuries long traditions, especially when you’re roped into more situations. But it’s another to hear your peers cheer for your disownment. Sure, Pansy’s done bad things. Maybe this is atonement. But Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, they’ve done bad, too. And it’s entirely easy to paint an entire group of kids to be evil when a few of them are, and it’s easier when it’s the house known for cunningness and dark magic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It only takes one bad apple to spoil the bunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They say nobody’s ever gone bad that wasn’t a Slytherin. Pansy hopes this label won’t carry her into other walks of life. Her parents haven’t seemed to let their Slytherin heritage go, even if they haven’t been at Hogwarts for upwards of thirty years. She wished for months to be put in Ravenclaw just to spite them. But maybe this was where she belonged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk down to the dungeons is filled with pushes and groans. Every time she tries to break away, the tide brings her back into the crowd. Until finally, near the bottom of the stairs, she breaks free, seeing Draco and Blaise run off, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deep down, Pansy knows she’s an idiot if she follows them. But it’s just, it’s in her nature to be curious, so wand raised, she jogs along the corridor after them. They dip into a room and she manages to make it in before the doors close, and soon she realizes she’s standing in the middle of the Room of Hidden Things. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco,” she whispers. There’s no response but Pansy hears voices, and makes her way to them across the sea of debris. But then, when she approaches them, she sees Draco, Blaise and Goyle with their wands pointed at Harry Potter, and her first response is to say, “what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing — Pansy, this is none of your business,” Draco sneers back. His hand falters with his wand, giving the slightest shame, and Goyle sends him a nasty glare that also makes its way to her. “Go away, I mean it.”  </span>
</p>
<p><span>“No, why are you doing this? Draco, you don’t have to be like your father. You don’t have to be. Just stop,” Panys says, pursing her lips. “Blaise, this isn’t </span><em><span>you.</span></em> <em><span>Please</span></em><span>.” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Go </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Goyle shouts back at her. He’s much bigger than her, sure, but Pansy only lifts her chest higher and points her wand out as he turns to face her. Harry Potter stares back at them, Draco and Blaise losing focus once there’s a wand underneath her throat. “Now, Parkinson. Or I’ll do something we’ll both regret.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, Gregory? What are you going to do —”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Crucio!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And as soon as the words leave his mouth, the excruciating pain flows through her veins like fire. A thousand cuts by daggers, a million bruises being prodded, countless stabs and shots to a boy that looks like it’s all but in pain. Even when her body hits the ground, back arched and neck crumpled, it looks like more peace than pain. At least, at first — until her limbs start to shake and thrash and then the piercing scream is let out, the one that could shatter wine glasses and picture frames, the one that makes Goyle grimace in the wake of his curse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop, stop!” Draco shouts, running to crouch over her still writhing body. Tears have formed a steady river down and into her hairline, pooling along her cheeks and in the crooks of her neck. Goyle still stands, looking, waiting, as if more could happen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy opens her mouth, swallowing the scream that threatens to come out. “Please, stop.” It’s a broken sob, warped by gasps of pain, and he’s staring at her with fire in his eyes and the wand is still pointed at her body and Pansy can imagine a future of nothing but this white hot pain, the one that rips her brain apart and leaves her to rot on the floor of Hogwarts until someone needs the Room of Requirement again. She never thought she would wish for the words of </span>
  <em>
    <span>avada kedavra</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she wants, aches for them now, and it’s seen in the way her eyes squeeze the tears out, and she waits for someone to stop this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco stands there, fighting Goyle for his wand, when she sees it out of the corner of her eye. It’s not just Harry Potter, but now his friends are there, too — and Hermione Granger shouts an incantation she doesn’t hear, but then Draco’s wand flies to her feet. Staring at the ceiling, she hears the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>avada kedavra</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave Goyle’s mouth, and although she waits, the green light never comes — he’s running away now, with Ron Weasley following him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a shock of blue light, the pain begins to fade away, and there’s frizzy curls hanging in front of her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” The words seem to be more of a comfort than a question, because the answer is simple. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But Hermione seems to notice that, so without a second’s thought, she starts to mutter </span>
  <em>
    <span>lenio lenio lenio lenio</span>
  </em>
  <span> until Pansy can stand again, although her legs are still a bit sore. “Can you walk at least?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I think so,” Pansy confirms, pulling up her skirt a bit to see the damage on her thighs. Though the cruciatus curse left no remnants, her fall left some bruises blossoming, and a cut that’s bleeding down to her knee. When she looks back up, she sees the other girl look away sharply, turning to where Harry’s climbing a mountain of things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re looking for something — a diadem. Can you help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, of course.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if you had told her, Pansy Parkinson, that today she would be helping two Gryffindors find a tiara in the Room of Requirement after she received an Unforgivable Curse from one of the people she’s known since she was eleven, well — Pansy would have laughed in your face. Because no </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> way was that going to happen, but now it is and her knees are scraping metal all the way up the mountain of hidden things, until a glimpse of blue catches her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here! Here, I’ve found it,” she shouts, clambering back down and giving the tiara to Harry, who shiver’s under its touch. “Now, why is it so important to —”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go! Goyle’s set the bloody place on fire! Go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron splits between them, pushing Pansy slightly into the stack of chairs as he passes through. His feet carry him directly away from the burning orange light, but as the fire wraps around the corner, the girl finds herself entranced; staring as it rips into the wood and lights everything aflame. It’s only a few seconds, but Pansy feels like she’s been staring for hours by the time her sleeve is tugged. “Come on, quick!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon, her breath is cut ragged as she sprints alongside Hermione through the corridors. The orange seems to follow them everywhere they go, though; through each aisle and around to the next. The dragon’s head peeks out a few times, growling at the girls and threatening to swallow them whole. It seems like a labyrinth, the way the halls wrap around and around and around, neverending and always more fire and always more hidden things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They round another corner — Hermione’s hand still wrapped around Pansy’s sleeve, holding it as if it were a leash — when they spot Harry and Ron again. The fire rages a bit far behind them, but approaching nonetheless, when someone points to something. A broom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy’s handed one and shakes her head, “I can’t- I don’t know how to fly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven years at Hogwarts and you don’t know how to fly a bloody broom?” Ron mocks, mounting his own. It kicks back underneath him, raising above the ground, and Pansy feels a pang of envy in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione swats him with a glare, “come on, ride with me. But hold on tight — I’m no quidditch star.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she knows it, she’s climbing on the back of a broom, her legs wrapped around it and her arms around Granger. Again, something she would never have envisioned just a mere few hours before — but now, there’s a bursting thump to her heart as an arm holds her firm to the broom, and she’s flying high above a bleeding fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t stop as they pick up Blaise and Draco, it doesn’t when she sees Goyle burn, and it surely doesn’t as Hermione drops her off outside the doors, clambering onto the concrete with a small smile before she’s off on another quest, and Pansy’s left standing, beating heart and all, in the heart of a crumbling Hogwarts. </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a lot of blood spilled. The school is practically in ruins — columns and staircases fallen in front of her eyes. Her wand is busy fighting off men and Pansy prays silently that she doesn’t see her father. A cold heart of steel, her legs already sore from the cruciatus curse; she might fold in on herself if he looks at her now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone sits stagnant as they wait for more battle to come. Across the way, she spots Blaise with a cut across his cheek in the corner, blotting it with his sleeve. On her own face, Pansy’s lip is swollen and busted, the blood on her leg has dried, and her skirt has a rip along the hem. Her Slytherin tie is long gone, having been used as a tourniquet for someone’s deep wound from a large shard of broken glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Pansy’s heart doesn’t stop thumping, and it’s so loud that she swears everyone else can hear it as she passes by them. Especially when her entire night was spent shielding herself from her father’s friends, when she was patching up Hufflepuffs like she wasn’t slightly cruel to them in the past, and when she nearly died at the hands of her old friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then, the time comes. They descend upon the school like soldiers on the right side of the war, except they’re not. They’re not cavalry, they’re pawns — and she knows that, as soon as she sees Hagrid carrying a body, and when they’re stone faced and calm like it couldn’t be any of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People descend the steps from the castle like it’s the last steps they’ll ever take. The ruin surrounds them, the aftermath of war, if you could even call it that. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> the war. They’re standing in it. The remnants of something ongoing, the rubble and debris, the stone army smashed to smithereens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a scream as Voldemort stops in front of them. It’s Ginny Weasley; the bright headed girl being held back, and soon Hermione’s crying, too. Their friend is dead, it’s only natural to be in anguish. Maybe a couple years ago, Pansy would have done the same for Goyle, but then she soon realized.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s somewhere else entirely as they laugh over Harry Potter’s body. Pansy hides herself in the back of the crowd, searching for her father’s face, until she finds it next to Bellatrix Lestrange, the dark mark against his arm standing out all too much and not at all. It’s him now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s when Draco crosses over, that’s when Pansy comes to. When she stops paying attention to the molecules of tension in the air, and starts noticing that her name is being whispered, and then shouted. “Pansy Parkinson!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her feet are cemented into the ground, and her wand is sewn to her hand in that moment. But her father is now staring straight at her, and Pansy pulls herself from the depths, wand drawn in front of her — the curves of Applewood into deep vines, the spiraling nature against her palm now slick with nervousness. Shouting again, he takes one more step forward, a deep frown along his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Pansy says. It carries the distance, reaching him, and he frowns. Voldemort lets out a sneering chuckle. Draco might have passed over, sure, but she wasn’t him. “Shove it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you just say to me? I’m your father,” he states. It’s supposed to be threatening, but it isn’t. In order for it to be, Pansy would have to feel scared, but she doesn’t. Not of him, not anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said,” she makes a show of clearing her throat, glancing out into the sea of people staring at her. “Shove it up your fucking ass, Paul.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s no way to speak to your superiors,” Voldemort finally speaks, looking between them both. “Especially when we have the upper hand. Harry Potter is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dear, were you not paying attention?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you think everyone’s going to stand back and obey your orders? Like you’re God now? Sure, Harry’s dead — but there’s a big difference between him and you, you see. He died with amazing friends, people who loved him, and he left a mark. You’re going to die tonight, you see.” Pansy grasps her wand tighter, breaking eye contact and looking to where his friends stand. They’re gaping at her, especially Neville Longbottom, and she only smiles. “And you love nobody.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry’s heart beat for us,” Neville adds, “This is not over!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, swinging, he unsheathes the sword of Gryffindor. Harry Potter wakes up. And even when she’s backing into the castle, when her wand is hot with the power of a million curses, Pansy’s heart doesn’t stop pounding. Because this, this is what it feels like to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive — </span>
  </em>
  <span>and all the years leading up to this, she was barely existing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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